


The Fairest Of Them All

by anna_unfolding, cantarina, Elizabeth Conall (EllieMurasaki)



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Snow White - All Media Types
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bechdel Test Pass, Community: pod-together, Community: poetree, Female Character of Color, Podfic, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_unfolding/pseuds/anna_unfolding, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantarina/pseuds/cantarina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Conall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwyneira, Cymran princess, and her seven friends<br/>must flee lest she be murdered by her mother queen.<br/>How can they keep her safe? How can she get her throne?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fairest Of Them All

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH to Anne, jjhunter, and kaberett, who made this story so much better than I could have done on my own. —Elizabeth Conall, poet
> 
> Thank you, Elizabeth, for including me in this project; I loved your transformation of the tale. Your language and meter were beautiful to read aloud. Thanks also to paperclipbitch for the quick and helpful beta on iambic pentameter! <3 —anna_unfolding, podficcer

[MP3](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/The%20Fairest%20of%20Them%20All-anna_unfolding,%20elliemurasaki.mp3)  
[M4B](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2013/The%20Fairest%20of%20Them%20All-anna_unfolding,%20elliemurasaki.m4b)

The sky was the pale gray of marble columns in  
the throne room of Queen Aeron. Thunder crashed, each flash  
of lightning startlement to the young mages who  
were studying their art in chambers set aside,  
left warily alone: Princess Gwyneira, and  
Lady Arianrhod, and Enid, farmers' child.  
"I do not understand," protested beautiful  
Arianrhod. "Why say we cannot use magic  
to change the weather? Why not use a shield such as  
I would have up were I to venture out in this,  
but make it bigger?" / "Crops are more important than  
my lady's comfort," Enid snapped, her patience at  
its end. "No rain, no wheat. No wheat, no scones." / Seren  
the kitchen girl had brought said scones; Arianrhod  
took one, defiant. "We could keep the rain, so that  
it rains only at night and quietly," she said.  
The Princess Gwen looked up from study. "How would that  
be fair to people who live on lands not quite near  
enough to this to 'scape the daytime rain, but far  
enough that rain that falls on us must touch them too?  
Perhaps the lands of the Marquess Owain, your lord  
father?" / The Lady Arianrhod grimaced  
and bit her scone. / "We must also consider the  
strength of crown-sworn mages," said Gwyneira. "For  
they have their tasks: the forging of knights' helmets, swords,  
and mail; the strengthening of crops; the building of,  
well, buildings; keeping water clean of sickness; and  
keeping fires lit to light and warm our home.  
With what are we to do those tasks if crown commands  
that the crown mages are to change the weather for  
your benefit?" / "By hand?" suggested Enid, who,  
as they three knew, oft used her art to ease her life.  
The metal needle did obey her better when  
commanded by her magic than by hand. Gwen laughed.  
So did Arianrhod. "You win," said she. "How fair  
of you, Your Highness, listening to us both before  
deciding who is in the right." / "What else could I  
do?" said Gwyneira. "Queens, before all else, we must  
be fair." She looked at the door where Ithel,  
duke's son, and Drystan, brother to Arianrhod,  
were passing by. "Come join us, lords," she said, waving.  
Lord Drystan asked, "Has sister mine yet mastered why  
and how the gods did grant her power over wood,  
not metal?" / "Has my brother mastered yet his sword?"  
replied Arianrhod. "Does it still master you?"  
"Peace," said Ithel, with the tone of one who knew  
that it would come to naught. "Your Highness, we are glad  
as we ever were to grace your presence fair."  
"Do hold your fancy words," said Gwen. "Please join us in  
a game?" / Arianrhod and Enid closed their books  
as one. / Gwen dealt the cards. Seren brought in more scones,  
and leaving with the plate before, she leapt aside  
as Talfrin (who kept clean the floors) came rushing in.  
"Your Highness," panted he, "flee, flee! The queen, she wants  
you dead!" / "Be calm," said Gwen. "Why say you so? What can  
I have done to my lady mother to offend  
her?" / "I know not," said Talfrin; he did bow, though late.  
"She ordered crown-sworn mage Eleri bring to her  
your heart." / "I will defend you, Highness," Drystan said.  
"The best defense is not to be where the blow lands,"  
Seren said; Drystan glanced at her. She blushed. "Dilys  
the cook is cruel." / "We'll get you safely out, Gwen," said  
Lady Arianrhod. "We'll dress you in clothes  
that better fit a servant. No one notices—"  
She grinned at Talfrin. "—that servants are even there."  
"Where shall we go?" asked Enid. "My village cannot  
feed us unless they get some help." / "The cottage that  
my father seeks to rent," said Ithel. "I'll arrange  
it." / "No," said Gwen. "What sort of coward flees a false  
charge of—it must be!—treason? I will not go." / "You will,"  
said six at once. "And we with you," said Enid, and  
five nods agreed with her. / "Far better a live mouse  
than a dead lion," said Arianrhod. "We go."  
"But not without my Catrin," Gwen said, weakly. She  
refused to leave her dearest friend, who'd helped her through  
her first love and her father's death. / "Your wardrobe girl?"  
Arianrhod asked, then said, "Yes, of course. I'll go  
for her," and left. Seren vanished with her to bring  
some food and clothes and needful things, and Talfrin too.  
Gwen lost the thread of her companions' goings, tried  
to keep her breath in order, out and in and out  
and in, not in and in and in or out and out.  
How could her lady mother _do_ this to her? How?  
"You are nearly of age," said Enid then, "to take  
the crown from the Queen Regent. She fears that. She must."  
"Are we then seven?" asked Seren. "Gwen eight." Gwen looked  
around; yes, seven friends: there Catrin was, quite pale.  
She helped Gwen out of velvet gown, and Gwen slipped on  
a servant's dress of rougher weave. Voice mute, she went  
where Ithel led, and did not raise a shield against  
the rain. It would be better, to escape unseen,  
if no one thought a mage was in the group of eight,  
much less three promising mage students, two of rank,  
and two mage servants, and a duke's son and a squire,  
and servant to the princess. Hands passed Gwen tea.  
She drank it, then knew nothing more till came the morn.

"You'll have to have illusions," said Arianrhod;  
she whittled, Enid spun with Catrin's help, Seren  
and Drystan practiced dance as Talfrin tapped a drum's  
beat on the floor and Ithel played lap harp he'd thought  
essential. Gwen stared at her tiny loom and wished  
this were a nightmare, but Arianrhod spoke on.  
"You look—distinctive." / This Gwen knew, but had not thought  
a problem. Black as ebony, her hair, black as  
her Fujiyaman grandmother's; skin white as snow,  
or near; lips red as blood; eyes at an angle not  
too often seen in Cymru. Catrin had them, and  
skin golden, just as rare; of all in Cymru, just  
descendants of the servants and attendants of  
the Queen Miyu were Fujiyaman gold. All the  
rest of Gwen's friends and populace were varied shades  
of pale. Said Catrin, "I'll be needing the illusions too."  
For if they wished to seem as common women as  
unranked as Enid, then they ought Arianrhod's  
advice to take. "Illusions itch," complained Gwen. "They  
want scratching, lying on my skin like roughly spun  
and poorly woven cloth." She eyed the servants' garb  
she wore. / "What are you speaking of?" Arianrhod  
asked her. / "I'll live," said Gwen. / "She sneaked along to see  
my home," said Enid, "years ago." / "Is that to where  
she went each time?" asked Catrin. Enid's spindle slipped,  
unspinning all her work; she swore as farmers do.  
"Please don't sneak off from here," said Drystan. "We cannot  
protect you then." / "I won't," Gwyneira promised, calm.

The days wore on. No news came from the castle of  
the charges laid against her highness; certainly  
they'd hear such news, for gossip at the market was  
a rapid, noisy thing. Arianrhod carved tools  
and toys of wood to sell, and tried to make wood beads  
but they split easily. Practiced at farming was  
the peasants' daughter Enid, who did gardening,  
intending sale of harvest, but alas she lived  
with seven hungry others. Baking goods to sell  
Seren did well, though her friends ate much of that too.  
And Drystan, when he bought the wool for Enid to  
attempt to spin, thought he could spin more surely than  
could she, and found that yes he could; what Drystan spun,  
Gwyneira wove and Catrin sewed. What money they  
made from that Ithel counted; market days, he scribed  
for those who could not read or write, and Gwen did swear  
that that was quite unfair; when queen, she'd mandate schools.  
And Talfrin kept the cottage clean, a daunting and  
a vital task with eight in such a tiny space.  
When Enid found she could not force enough food from  
the ground to sell as well as eat, she tried to get  
Arianrhod to help—her wood affinity,  
the same as Enid's farmer mother's, should be quite  
enough to work the harvest spells. Arianrhod  
refused. "I am an artist," she said, wondering  
how she might phrase the rest without an insult to  
her friend. "I would exchange affinity with you  
at once, you know—" / "You wish to make your art in forms  
nobility would wear," said Enid, weary. "Not  
just wooden beads, however prettily you carved  
the necklace for Seren. I would prefer to _use_  
my magic and my skill." / "Then do so!" said Seren,  
while offering Arianrhod first taste of this  
experiment in kitchenry. "The blacksmith needs a boy.  
I'm sure a metal mage will do." So Enid went  
to see the smith while dressed in Drystan's clothes and with  
her hair cut short, and came home an apprentice to  
the good smith Rhys, and said her name was Ifan now,  
and Enid was no more. As Ifan, he—not 'she'—  
would still do gardening, but 'prentice fees he now  
would bring as his main contribution to the house.

The news of Princess Gwen's supposed treason reached  
the market with crown mage Eleri, hunter. It  
was, as had Enid thought, an accusation that  
Gwyneira tried to take the throne before her time.  
The word came on Eleri's lips, and she compelled  
them not to tell, for fear the treas'nous princess would  
hear it and flee. She looked at Gwen while saying this.  
Gwen, safe behind her itchy mask-illusion, flinched  
not. Catrin set another stitch, but Ifan and  
then Drystan shifted posture should defense of Gwen  
be needed. Gwen would have preferred that they did not  
call such attention to her, but Eleri, she  
just nodded and went on her way. Gwen turned to her  
friends loyal, when Eleri was well out of sound  
range, and she snapped, "Do _not_ suggest we run again."

Arianrhod, at home, did say "We should once more  
depart for safer lands." / "I want my throne," said Gwen.  
"I want my _home_." These several months since Talfrin's first  
frightened warning had been—no, not lonely, not  
with seven ever-present friends, but desolate.  
No balls, no feasts, no parties save what they conjured  
just for the eight of them. "I want my home," said Gwen  
again. / "We'll get you home," said Catrin soothingly.  
Seren replied, "They'll be on guard against us—how?"  
Said Talfrin, "No one looks at servants." / "You mean to sneak?"  
asked Gwen. "No. We come openly or not at all."  
"Not," Drystan voted, and Seren did laugh. "We have  
five mages, all five elements to work with. We  
have two strong warriors." / "And me," said Catrin. "I  
am not useless." / "Who said you were?" Seren asked her,  
and Catrin shrugged—it was herself alone. Seren  
kept on, "And Ifan can forge armor for us all."  
"I can?" said Ifan. / "Yes, you can," said Ithel. "I  
will pay good Rhys for eight sets armor, sized for us."  
Arianrhod blinked. "Have we that much money?" asked  
she. Ithel answered, "Yes, we have. We can assault  
the castle with our eight-strong army if we want."  
Said Gwen, "I did not mean that when I said we would  
go openly or not at all." / Arianrhod looked down  
at her own body. "Will I fit in armor?" she asked. / "Yes,"  
said Ifan. "Larger armor, that is all. If we  
do have money enough—" / "We do," said Ithel then.  
And Talfrin took a piece of charcoal to sketch out  
the layout of the castle. Catrin bent over  
the diagram with him. "What, are we honestly  
planning an assault on the queen's castle?" asked  
then Drystan. "Princess Gwen, you should be queen by now,  
but Aeron—she has many mages. I dislike  
to see our Gwen within her reach." / "Eleri came,"  
reminded Gwen. "We are not out of Aeron's grasp."  
The plans continued, unabated—strengthened by  
remembering that Gwen's birthday twenty-first  
had passed; her coronation should have been that day.

At the blacksmith's, Ifan worked, quite tireless.  
Arianrhod, Seren, and Catrin, Drystan, Gwen,  
and Ithel, Talfrin, they all set their usual tasks  
aside—the mages to their practice, warriors  
to theirs, the latter teaching Catrin how to fight  
and fall. Just one more market day and armor would  
be ready, all the pieces put together and  
as light as Ifan's magic let them be. Just one  
more week. They all took some time that day to sell  
what they had made and left unsold, lest someone from  
the village see the break in the routine and come  
investigating and report it to the queen.  
Gwen, stomach growling, went to look for food, and not  
the treats Seren had baked that morn. The grandmother  
whose apple cart Gwen found offered a bright red fruit;  
Gwen took the apple given, bit into its flesh—

A scream brought Ithel flying to the screamer's aid.  
Shopkeeper Alis stood outside her husband's butcher shop,  
Gwen fainted dead away on the ground at her feet.  
An apple, one bite gone, lay in Gwen's hand. He knelt  
beside her, found she had no pulse, shouted for his friends.  
They all came running. Talfrin's water magic kept  
Gwen's blood aflow, Seren's fire Gwen's heart abeat.  
"She's still alive," said Catrin, finding voice at last.  
"What happened, Alis?" / "The old woman," Alis said,  
"and not a one I know. She sold the apple to  
the girl—" She looked around. "Where is she?" No one saw.

Seven armored figures marched into the tall  
gray marble throne room of Queen Aeron. They did bear  
an eighth, in matching armor clad and lying as  
though dead, six carrying the bier. The one  
who led them to the throne itself, her visor raised,  
gold Fujiyaman face beneath, spoke in a high  
voice, confident: "I speak for Queen Gwyneira." She  
flinched not when mages' staves were aimed at her. "The queen,"  
said she, "lies victim of a curse devised by the  
pretender queen, former Queen Regent Aeron. We  
desire of Aeron that she give the means to break  
the curse, then step down in her daughter's favor as  
she should have done these four months past." And Catrin, for it  
was she, stood firm, with Ithel, Drystan, Ifan to  
one side, Arianrhod, Seren, and Talfrin to  
the other. / Aeron stood. "Gwyneira stands accused  
of treason 'gainst her queen," said she. "You seven stand  
with her? Then you shall die." / Said Talfrin, "I recall  
quite well the day Princess Gwyneira fled this place.  
It was the day her mother told a mage to have  
her killed, to bring her heart to you that you might eat  
Gwyneira's life and so assure the throne stayed yours."  
"Kill them!" yelled Aeron. Catrin darted back to friends,  
and four young mages raised a shield against twenty  
or more. "We should be five," said Ifan, "should be five—"  
And did he feel the touch of Gwen's earth magic 'gainst  
his metal? Talfrin's water, wood Arianrhod's,  
Seren's fire: yes, there, earth faint but strong.  
On impulse, he removed Gwen's helmet; she did sleep  
like dead—that was the curse—and watchers gasped, for she  
wore no illusions now: black ebony, white snow.  
He thought Gwen fighting was, and needed only breath  
to break free from the curse from its inside. He took  
off his own helmet, he leaned down, he kissed  
his friend Gwyneira, and his lady sworn, his queen.  
She woke. Confused, by armor and surroundings, she  
did try to stand, and fell, and saw the shield, and slid  
her magic in among her friends'. Reluctant to  
attack, the crown-sworn mages were before, and now  
they all refused. And Drystan, Ithel now stepped forth  
to take former Queen Aeron by the arms that she  
might not escape the traitor's fate. "Don't kill her," said  
Gwyneira, Queen now: Aeron's crown in Ithel's hand.

Imprisoned, Aeron made just one request: for the  
hand mirror from her rooms to be returned to her.  
It happened Catrin found it: touched it, dropped it, screamed.  
"It feels wrong," she said, shaking. "What did it do to her?"  
The wrongness she could only feel in shards of glass,  
and Ithel when he came could feel it too. The frame  
was only wood; Arianrhod made one the same,  
Seren burned the original. A fire mage  
from glassworks brought new mirror glass and melted down  
the shards, assuring Catrin that no magic could  
survive the heat. Gwen asked how Aeron came by such  
an artifact, what she wanted with it, and  
no one could answer her. The mirror duplicate  
made, Aeron got her one request, no more harm done.


End file.
